


Obsession

by tocasia



Series: Our Shining Past [11]
Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: AU, Addiction, Dark, Death, Gen, Manipulate materia, Memories, Pretty Messed Up, Sephiroth and Zack friendship, Violence, What Did I Just Write, the war in Wutai, unethical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 05:27:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11525487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tocasia/pseuds/tocasia
Summary: Though rumors of his actions spread through the ranks, all that could be confirmed, all that Zack knew, was that he dealt with the offenders himself.  Sephiroth and Manipulate in Wutai.  Dark.(25. obsession) for Seph&Zack Friendship 100 Themes





	Obsession

Mother had once whispered to him of a forgotten power he should have, that of absolute command. He tried not to, but when he imagined it in the quiet darkness, there were times when he couldn't deny that he _wanted_ it, that he _liked_ it, that it was some kind of natural order, that he _deserved_ to rule. It didn't make a lot of sense, since he was already in charge of the world's largest army. Wasn't that enough?

* * *

Sephiroth was working late. Zack had finished up the coffee but probably meant well by talking at him.

"Did you hear, on the news today? They reported a rumor that two of the recruits in Unit 12 shot one of their mates with beam guns in the barracks. The only thing left was the guy's boots, like something out of a cartoon. It can't be real."

Fighting within the ranks was not tolerated. It wasn't part of the recruits' training to make a first human kill, certainly not to murder a member of one's own unit. Of course he knew of the incident.

"It's being dealt with."

"Wait, it actually happened? But... you're up here instead of down there."

Obviously. What did Zack mean by that? Oh. The punishment.

"I don't dirty my hands with them. They will face the firing squad after the paperwork has been finalized."

The only warning he had was Zack's surprised look. "But in the war didn't you..."

Fair was being uncharacteristically stupid tonight. One of the things they'd agreed upon to put Wutai behind them was to _never_ say stuff like that.

"Don't you _dare_ finish that sentence. Get out!"

Realizing his mistake, Zack fled, leaving Sephiroth alone with the past.

_But in the war didn't you..._

Yes, he had.

He remembered the turquoise sheen.

* * *

Such a sharp memory, but they all were....

A year had passed in Wutai, and despite his best efforts there was to be a second. The war had truly turned ugly. If there had ever been rules, they'd all been broken.

Why his thoughts drifted to the eighth time, when there were _so many_ others to choose from, he didn't know.

* * *

According to aerial surveillance, the building saw a lot of suspicious traffic. People were being moved there. A prisoner camp. People went in but did not come out. Two squads of Thirds had been missing for days. The enemy knew more than they should. He went alone. No one else could be allowed to have _it_.

He remembered the highlights. The mission objectives (to capture the site and rescue the prisoners). The weather (soft rain at night, but he could have waltzed in in the middle of the afternoon for all the difference it made). How fast it had been but not his fastest. The things he'd smiled at.

How he'd known their numbers by their heartbeats, and how at the gate he'd caught the guards' bodies as they fell, and lain them down gently so there'd be no sound when they hit the ground; he'd stepped over them carefully as blood pooled beneath, mixing with the mud. How he'd blocked the exits with Ice to cut off all escape routes. The enemies he'd killed with Fire, the closest consumed, flesh burnt past the point of pleasantness, while the ones farther back took their last searing breath. The enemies he'd killed with Bolt, telling himself he could look at the fractal patterns the lightning drew on their bodies later.

The person he was currently studying was the commanding officer from whom he'd confiscated _it_ , his true objective: another copy of the Manipulate materia he held. This was his third. 'Person' wasn't the right word for his captive. Things without free will aren't people.

The most basic use of Manipulate: creation of a bond allowing the user to see the victim's possible combat actions and choose which to execute on the desired target.

With some finesse, the next: through that bond, control over, as far as he had determined, any action. The compulsion to talk, to tell the truth, that's what the enemy did with it.

And then there was what _he_ could do with it, after all the practice that he'd had: not just actions, but memories. He could glimpse fragments of them. Could he do more? This would be the first test.

Patience. Before that, he should obtain the knowledge he needed in case something went wrong.

Yes, there was the location of another intelligence gathering operation, and the name of who had given the orders, who surely had a copy of her own. That would be his next target.

Now that he had seen, what could he do to the memories? Erase? Alter? Create? He attempted each in turn, with no success. Was it disappointment or relief he felt at that? A little of both, but also the temptation to discover if it would be possible with more practice. Any excuse for more practice. What a sick addiction it was.

He got the rest of the information he requested by asking nicely.

Then it was time for the best part.

All they had to do was die for him while under the effect of Manipulate, and he could ride the jolts of ecstasy that came when he severed the bond that way. It didn't matter how they died. It was better with the sword, better when they were aware of his control and their helplessness. Perhaps it was a personal failure. Disgusting, dangerous. Yet, the pleasure he felt when they died remained more enticing than revolting.

It had been the eighth time. It had been... yes, like _that_.

Then there were the prisoners in the cells. Knowing something of the enemy's tactics in this field, he couldn't tell from looking at them if their minds were their own. He'd have to... check to see which ones were still loyal. And if any of them turned out not to be, then... it was his _reward_ for a job well done.

Most of them were fit to be rescued. Such a shame. The medics and a team of Seconds would soon arrive to clean up the mess and properly capture the place. He tallied the casualties and searched each corpse for materia.

What he did with the gathered materia was how this memory connected to what Zack believed about the personal nature of his justice.

* * *

It was standard operating procedure. All new materia was brought to him, for testing, for distribution, for future study. Most were what they'd started calling the basics: Fire, Ice, Lightning. Restore was a valuable find; the SOLDIER Thirds who could cast it made good medics. There were some uncommon offensive spells: Earth, Gravity, Poison. The true treasures were the ones that weren't green, the rare ones that the enemy usually destroyed instead of allowing to be taken.

_But in the war didn't you..._

He performed the tests to determine each materia's function alone and in private, on captured enemies or local monsters or on those of his own forces who'd committed crimes punishable by death. In the beginning he didn't enjoy it, but neither did he shy away. This was war, and it was necessary. Though rumors of his actions spread through the ranks, all that could be confirmed, all that Zack knew, was that he dealt with the offenders himself.

The first time he'd touched the yellow orb, he'd known it was different from the others, special in some way. It called to him as only Fire ever had before. No, it was not a valid comparison at all. It was _better_ , which scared him more than anything else in the war so far.

He'd tested it on Lieutenant... how could he have forgotten the name? who'd murdered an officer while trying to escape after being caught selling information to the enemy. To simply kill the one responsible for such acts would be wasteful. This experiment was more than justified.

So, what did it do? He tapped into its power....

There was no outward sign, but in his mind's eye the target was limned in turquoise light. He saw all the options available to his prisoner: attacks, items, spells. The target was waiting? Waiting for him to... waiting for his command. Waiting.

He chose what the lieutenant would do: stay still and accept Masamune's sentence, a final end from which no revival was possible, so that Wutai could not reclaim their agent. The strike was intended as a passionless execution, since this man was unworthy of his further attention. Death was uninteresting to him. But the way it felt when that traitor fell beneath his sword, died _instantly_ while under the effect of the materia and so would _always_ be his....

Yes, it had been like _that_ , that time, the first of many.

Then he'd had a second choice to make.

When the researchers asked for the results of the test, he'd said, "The yellow one does nothing. Bring the next."

* * *

If he didn't stop, he'd think about this all night, feeling each time, each one, again until he missed it so much that though not asleep he would never wake from the dream of _more_. He could have it, he was good at getting what he wanted, he could.... No.

Breathing deeply, he banished the memory and willed his senses to fade, back to the lesser awareness he maintained these days.

He kept _it_ , or rather, _them_ locked away. He had quite the collection.  
Certain things were not allowed now that...  
The war was over, the war was over, the war was over.


End file.
